


Outside In

by prettyshiroic (kcgane)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Let them be friends, Mission Fic, Stranded, Team Dynamics, he wants friends and he deserves them, i love their friendship :')), important talks are had, keith just wants friends, pre E6, set somewhere in S2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 00:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12569980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcgane/pseuds/prettyshiroic
Summary: The mission is simple, until it’s not. It’s simple until the pod Keith and Pidge are in malfunctions. It’s going well until Keith insists they land to check out the problem before it gets worse or they try to push it too hard in hyperspeed. It stops being simple when they land in the lush forests of Roesan and the entire communication system goes down. Next goes the fuel. Really - there’s only so much a stellar pilot and a genius tech wizard can do together.--If Keith’s honesty is blunt, then Pidge’s honesty is brutal. Whilst Keith doesn’t sugarcoat and strives to be direct and to the point, Pidge adapts that ability into something deeply empirical.





	Outside In

**Author's Note:**

> for Day 2 of platonic vld week: Outside

The mission is simple, until it’s not. It’s simple until the pod Keith and Pidge are in malfunctions. It’s going well until Keith insists they land to check out the problem before it gets worse or they try to push it too hard in hyperspeed. It stops being simple when they land in the lush forests of Roesan and the entire communication goes down. Next goes the fuel. Really - there’s only _so much_ a stellar pilot, who knows his parts having fixed stuff up before, and a genius tech wizard can do together. They’re still lacking their trusted engineer Hunk. The one who can execute what needs to be and _realise_ it.

They could stay here, set up camp. But in the forest ahead, Keith catches sight of mountainous rock formations. Generally speaking, the forest is fairly low-lying considering its size. But the rocks stick out like a jagged assortment of pillars. Logically, the only way is up.

“You know that’s mostly pseudoscience,” Pidge groans a few minutes into the walk. Keith doesn't answer, because he’s not running on pseudoscience or calculated equations. Keith is running on his instincts. And he's trusting them explicitly. They always serve him well when he listens and follows, they always will. The closest pillar doesn’t look too far out. There’s enough sunlight left in the sky to give them a fair chance at reaching it. Keith scans the area cautiously, hand poised and ready to draw his bayard. There’s no telling what could be out here with them. Hopefully nothing, but they _are_ on a new planet. Without comms. Without food. Without a working ship out of here.

“This way. Come on.”  

“Do we  _have to?”_ Pidge sounds like she knows the answer, but asks mostly for dramatic effect.

“Weren’t kidding about not liking the outdoors huh,” Keith pushes a large vine out the way. He considers slicing through it with his blade to clear their path, but there’s no telling if the stuff inside is toxic or not. When it comes to being out in the wilderness, Keith knows what he’s talking about. Not to mention, the kind of cuts this would require are better suited to his knife. The one tucked away that grows heavier to carry with each passing day. So it's out of the question to do anything here, because he doesn't want to look at the knife right now. _See t_ _hat symbol._ He doesn't want to consider what it means, what it could mean for his future on Team Voltron. _Then there's Pidge._ She would undoubtedly pry. Ask questions he doesn't have answers to. Maybe she would confirm everything he already knew.  _Ulaz's knife had the same symbol._

Behind him, Pidge grumbles. She sounds clearly unhappy with the entire ordeal.

“Whilst the Olkari found a way to work with the earth and build technology around it, which is incredible by the way I mean you cannot deny that how they managed to calibrate and then programme the binary-

“- _Pidge,_ ” Keith glances over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in a gesture he hopes she will get. There are only so many scientific terms Keith can keep up with in a single sentence. Abruptly, Pidge changes course in the conversation. She hurtles forwards as she does so, catching up to walk by his side.

“Well, anyway. Finding their technology interesting doesn’t suddenly make me the world’s biggest camping fan.”

“Have you ever been?” Keith asks curiously. “Camping, I mean.”

He is actually curious. Besides, they’ve got time to talk more than constant updates on how the mission is going. The comms are down, the peak that will give them a bit of a vantage point to scout where they are is in sight but some way off. Until they get there, walking is all they have. Conversation certainly wouldn’t go amiss. Pidge blinks in surprise. Obviously, she hadn’t been expecting Keith to initiate a conversation. Glancing over pointedly, Keith purses his lips. At least she has the courtesy to look a little sheepish at false assumptions being thrown onto him so fast without much thought.

“A couple of times.”

Something wistful gleams in Pidge’s eyes, her words drifting off. These words are evidently arbitrary, not the ones she wants to say. That’s reflected in the way she turns her attention to the scenery around, apparently finding newfound avid interest in it. Funny how moments earlier Pidge was _complaining_ about being surrounded by it. Keith tenses, unsure how to proceed because _he knows that look_. He knows that evasion. He’s woken up abruptly in the night and caught his reflection when shaky hands have reached for the sink faucet. He’s seen that flash of despair splinter his own face right down the middle without mercy or reprieve.

Keith already knows what Pidge is going to say next. But he waits, doesn’t push. Prompting might even be too much. It always was for Keith. This has to come from Pidge, has to be _given_ not taken expectantly. Not many people seemed to get that with Keith when Shiro was plucked viciously out his hands and lost to the stars.

Waiting is something Keith is familiar with. So it’s the least he can do for Pidge in this moment.

“Matt took me once.”

“Sounds… nice,” Keith settles for meekly. Scrunching his nose as he walks, Keith puffs out the air building between his lips. Yeah. That sounds really convincing. Honestly, he’s still unsure how to handle this, if he even _can._ Nobody really ever turns to him for comfort, or for solace in truly experiencing the way the universe can be so deeply unforgiving and unkind without bias or reserve. 

“It was! I mean,” Undeterred, Pidge responds with enthusiasm beyond anything Keith’s ever seen in her. She’s giddy, almost, a spring in each step as she speaks. “Everything bar being outside and stuck outdoors for an entire weekend was nice.”  

Keith quietly watches her recount the memory, lips upturning.

“We did terrible karaoke one night to some songs. We didn’t even have anything to play on, but Matt picked some prehistoric songs.”

_Prehistoric._

“Ha, like what?”

Admittedly, he’s interested by that. He’s always been drawn to the distant past whilst remaining so rooted in the present with his actions. A strange nostalgic paradox, yet never having a desire to go back or _look back_ . Most people think it’s weird. Or at least, they did on earth. But whilst Keith doesn’t like his own past, and dislikes thinking about it, there’s something incomprehensibly comforting about finding _good_ in the things left behind by other people. Places. Objects. Anything, really. Be it through music, old technology that is worn but definitely hasn’t seen it’s final days - even his bright red jacket. Everything fades away, but it doesn’t really fully decay. It just takes one person to put the spark back in, give it a voice again. That's always been the consolation to his own past: it's not all bad. Even his  _own_ isn't all bad. Not really. But it's too much to go back through his memories and check if that's true. 

“I don’t remember all the songs, they were all kind of outdated. Matt always likes to try and act cooler than he is,” Pidge snickers. “ _Highway To Hell_ was one, but by all accounts it makes no sense we weren’t even _moving_ and we weren’t on a highway either.”

 _“Hey,”_ Momentarily feigning offence, Keith folds his arms. “I like that song.”

Keith does like that song. He hasn’t heard it for a while. Not since he put the old compilation CD in his red walkman back at the shack and pressed play before embarking on a trek to scout the area and investigate the inexplicable tug he had towards the land. Sun beating down on his back, drums beating into his ears. The melody is easy to trace, almost as easy as the steps he took and the things he resolved himself to. The direction he headed in the face of his former purpose turning to sand. Lingering in the corners of his lips are the words of the song. Lips twitch. He can’t quite form a smile. But it’s a nice glimpse back either way.

Pidge grins, elbow pressing into his side. Whether it’s intentional or just because the path is getting a little narrow and for some reason Pidge is intent to stick by his side rather than go single-file, Keith doesn’t know. The grin implies it’s a playful nudge.

“You know, you’re actually really… not that bad.”

Turning to Pidge, Keith blinks. Oh. Well. He isn’t startled by the words exactly, but it doesn’t mean just because he’s _used to this_ it doesn’t hurt. They’re _teammates._ It’s a little different when it’s coming from cadets at the Garrison that don’t know a thing about him or the kids in the foster programme. But this is _Pidge._ They’ve been out here in space for what has to be months by now. They’ve been on missions together and saved worlds. But still she doesn’t see him, she sees a distortion of him. His light refracted and displaced by words that always speak louder than he possibly can on his own.

And Keith doesn’t blame Pidge, really. It’s just how things are, how it’s been for as long as he remembers. People take one look at him and decide they have his entire life story mapped out in their hands. They look at the intense concentration lines his eyebrows knit together, they look at the way his lips are naturally pressed tightly into something akin to a frown to decide they know everything about him. He’s trouble. Difficult. Angry. Volatile. All these words are nothing new.

“You sound surprised.” Keith can’t keep the growing sharpness out his voice. He can’t help but be bitter at the fact Pidge seems to be just discovering _now_ he’s a decent person. _Not that bad._

“Well, yeah,” she says automatically without much thought.

If Keith’s honesty is blunt, then Pidge’s honesty is brutal. Whilst Keith doesn’t sugarcoat and strives to be direct and to the point, Pidge adapts that ability into something deeply empirical. It takes a lot of self-restraint not to wince and let the sting those words have turn to poison in his chest. It might just be too late. Already Keith can feel it. Something bruising - diseasing his insides, spreading further with every heartbeat. Each rapid breath gives it life, each step fuels the internal motor running close to overdrive. _Not that bad._

“I mean, no. I mean - now it’s just the two of us you’re not really like Lance said you were.”

There it is.

It shouldn’t hurt so much. But it does. It really does. _Lance._ Pidge has founded her entire opinion of Keith on _speculation_ , not facts. Subjective, not objective. From someone so keen to gather the data and asses it, it should be surprising. But it isn’t. Once again, Keith isn’t surprised. Because Lance and Pidge are friends. And friends trust each other. Friends listen to each other and friends reserve the right to believe their friends and judge people on partial evidence alone. Friends have secrets, keep secrets and have things only they know. Lance, Hunk and Pidge seem close like that - like friends. It’s a circle he can’t quite join. Not only because he doesn’t know how to, but the circle is pretty firmly wedged shut. From where he’s standing, at least it seems that way.

Kicking a stray branch beneath his feet, Keith frowns. He’s not pouting. _Except he definitely is._ It’s still better than letting the incessant turmoil within him _win_ and seize hold of every fibre of his being _._

“What’s the deal with Lance, anyway?”

He’s careful with the question. This is dangerous territory he's never _dared_ breach before. But now he's climbed the  _no trespassing_ fence he might as well throw himself further into the firing line. There's nothing to lose here, he thinks. Probably. Pidge doesn’t seem to get what he’s asking, shrugging with a devious smirk.

“Depends on where you want to start. One time at the Garrison, Lance-”

“-No, that - that’s not... I mean-” Keith makes a note to remember that Pidge seems to be carrying around a lot of dirt on the other paladins and has absolutely _no qualms_ about dishing it out. If anything it makes him a little wary. _Does she have any dirt on him?_ No, that’s not the point of this. Okay. _Okay._ Here goes nothing. Keith jumps, chases after this chance he has to get answers. Maybe it's not the answers he's searching for right now, the ones etched into the knife that's heavy and haunting. But he needs something. _Anything._ These answers will do. “What’s Lance’s deal - _with me._ ”

It seems like Keith is the one asking the questions today, fully inquisitive and not passing up this rare opportunity to pick the green paladin’s mind. Confined to walking through the woods, there’s little more to do than talk. It’s a good thing Pidge is willing to indulge him, really. Whilst Keith is comfortable with walking in the quiet, enjoys it most times, he does actually like talking to people in the right conditions. These conditions aren’t exactly _comfortable,_ but Keith isn’t fussy. He’ll take what he can get and make the most of everything that comes his way. He’s always been resourceful like that.

“Lance never stopped talking about you at the Garrison,”

Whilst tempted to butt in and reiterate he didn’t even _know_ who Lance was besides the fact he was a cargo pilot in the same class, Keith doesn’t. Instead, he waits patiently for more information. He hasn’t heard the whole story yet. And if this unexpected bonding time with Pidge could potentially give further insight to whatever this _hang up_ is with Lance and a non-existent rivalry, then Keith will take the opportunity to probe. Pidge seems wary, casting a dubious glance towards Keith. It’s almost as if she isn’t quite sure where to stand on the matter, and is forming her own hypothesis right here and now with the answers Keith gives.

“He said you guys were really big rivals.”

“Of course he did.”

Keith poorly stifles a snort of disbelief. It’s loud enough to be heard by both of them. Okay. So this wild inexplicable fantasy travelled further than simply something he had voiced to Keith. Pressing his eyes shut, Keith takes a sharp breath. Frustration is growing already. Keith doesn’t know if he wants to hear anymore. He can predict where this is going. It’s not the first time someone decided he was the perfect benchmark to carve their own goals into. It’s not the first time someone deemed him the highest shelf, reaching up to push all their insecurities onto him. It’s not the first time someone has convinced all their friends that he’s trouble and painted him in some kind of antagonistic light before even giving him a real chance or getting to know what he’s like.

“Apparently you weren’t very nice to him either, and obviously that hasn’t changed much so-”

Wait, _what._ No.

“ _You can’t be serious.”_

Keith comes to a standstill, fist clenched and that simmering heat beneath his skin bursting into something very much alive and ready to set himself and the vicinity ablaze. Pursing his lips, Keith attempts to reign in the fiery exasperation. But he can’t. _He just can’t._ No way. Keith isn’t going to stand here and just take this. These accusations and _assumptions_ that have been thrust upon him by hearsay, perpetuated by gossip between friends in a group he clearly isn’t a part of.

He’s had enough of it.

It baffles him how nobody on the team can see it, or is even remotely aware of it. Pidge is observant, surely she should’ve picked up on it only she didn’t. Shiro often pins it down to childish mutual bickering. The others he doesn’t know what they think. _Just like they don’t know what he thinks._

From _day one_ Lance has deliberately poked and prodded. He’s pushed and _pushed._ To the point where Keith has been teetering over the most uncomfortable and irritable ledge he’s ever stood on. Every word spoken, every action taken, Lance just has to have some kind of opinion on it  - or _problem._ Problem. Yeah. That’s it. And there’s only _so tolerant_ one person can be in the face of a war that’s bigger than all of them. Despite that, being the bigger person isn’t always possible. There’s only so far Keith can be pushed and pushed _and pushed._ Keith bites back, and he _knows_ he has bitten back.

“Look. Pidge - I -” Keith can count the times on two fingers he’s initiated their disputes. He can count the times on _two_ _hands_ that Lance has been the catalyst. It’s not even about that. It’s not point scoring or some kind of competition - _rivalry._ It shouldn’t be, he doesn’t _want_ it to be. He just wants it over with.

“He has a problem with me. I _know_ he does,” Keith admits and _god_ saying it aloud is kind of cathartic. Before he can stop himself the rest of his concerns are toppling out. “I’ve tried, I have. But Lance doesn’t seem to want us to be friends. Whatever this - this _thing_ is he seems to think we have we don’t. And I don’t _want_ it, either. I just-” Keith sighs, raking a hand through his hair. He does't  _get it._ And not knowing  _why_ the rejection keeps happening stings. His voice is picking up momentum, and that ever-telling rasp that reveals far too much.  

 _I just want to be friends. I want friends. But they don’t even want me._ Sometimes it feels like they _do_ want him around outside of the missions and jobs they carry out as Team Voltron. Sometimes it doesn’t. And when Lance finally did give an inch, _we do make a good team,_ it’s suddenly tugged out of Keith’s hands before he can even fully process what exactly it is and what it could be. It’s tugged away so nonchalantly, like it doesn’t matter because _maybe it doesn’t_ maybe Keith read it all wrong.

_Nope, don’t remember, didn’t happen._

“I’m not just some - some lone wolf or a _cold-hearted,”_ Keith’s voice cracks on the word. _“_ Hothead. I’m a person, too.” If anyone besides Shiro actually tried to understand that, took a good look at him and _listened,_ maybe this whole thing would be easier for everyone. Oh. _Shoot._ Pidge’s eyes widen, indicating that yes. He did say that outloud. _Damn it._

“Sorry,” he breathes quickly, averting his gaze and picking up pace. “I’m sorry.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have said _anything_. Shame rises up inside him. He can’t stop it. He hates it. Eyes grow prickly and uncomfortable with every blink. Guilt comes next, shoving him forwards. Away. _Away._ It’s so horribly counterintuitive to _hide_ in the wake of his raw exposed emotions finally surfacing. To take it all back despite _meaning it,_ and render it all meaningless. But it’s been drilled into him, a result of exposure to such persistent scolding paired with biting indifference to his feelings. Suppression. Concealment. _Apologise. Don’t use that tone._ Angry. Problem. Difficult. Trouble. Wrong. All this is so often the price for letting just a _fraction_ of what is dancing on his tongue waltz into reality with a clear voice.

Keith isn't one to do things the easy way, but he's efficient. In no situation has voicing his emotions led to something completely positive and affirming - Shiro is the only exception. So sometimes it’s just easier and more _efficient_ not to speak _exactly_ how he wants. Clip the words. Keep it short. Imperative. To the point. No more. No less. Just direct. 

Because if other people simply didn’t care about this, _then why should he?_

Pidge shuffles beside him. Awkward and strained. It’s been too long, _way too long_ and silence has overstayed its welcome _._ Pidge hasn’t spoken. That’s bad. That has to be bad. _Shoot._ This is it. This is where it all falls apart and Pidge leaves and goes back to the lions to wait for backup and Keith is resigned to walk alone to the peak and maybe he’ll _stay there_ and then backup will come and Pidge won’t think twice about leaving him up there and heading back to the castle and _it’s all over_ every chance he’s had at coming _close_ to being accepted and it’s his _own fault_ of course it is, all because -

“I… I never thought about it that way before. I always thought you wanted to be alone and were happy being that way. I always thought you wanted to be there. But now I really think about it, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It doesn’t. But again, Keith isn’t surprised. When he turns to face Pidge, he’s greeted by a frown, tightly pinched eyebrows and - _oh._ Oh no. Pursing his lips, Keith stares. Now he really is surprised. This isn’t at all how he predicted this would happen.

“I can’t believe I never really considered you had a different point of view to all this and-”

“-Feelings,” Keith supplies weakly. It’s not out of spite he fills in the obvious gaps, but it needs to be said and the mutual breakdown of obstacles between them has given him a small boost of confidence. It’s _okay_ to voice it. Pidge works with the truth, prefers to digest things as candid as they come. Keith can up the usual dose if he needs to. Maybe. Maybe not  - because there is moisture in Pidge’s eyes. Definitely moisture. That moisture wasn’t there before but now it’s there. He put that there.

“Yeah, feelings.” She’s blinking quicker now, which Keith knows means there are budding unshed tears there.

“Pidge.” Stepping forwards tentatively, Keith reaches out a hand. Only, he has no idea what to do with it. Fingers catch on air. Swallowing down the lump building in his throat, Keith tries again. There it is again. Guilt. _He did this,_ which is why he _shouldn’t have done that._ “Pidge. It’s okay. I-... I’m sorry. I - don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” _It’s not._ “Everything’s fine, okay? And I-”

Keith doesn’t get to finish. Before he can, Pidge charges into him. She comes at him forcefully and with a speed he can hardly process in this moment. They collide and it’s clumsy. He almost struggles to stay upright as arms wind around his waist and squeeze tight enough to knock the air from his lungs. Face pressed into his chest, Pidge clamps her eyes shut tight.

“I’m sorry, Keith. I _promise_ we’ll do better and I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask you anything about the situation. When we get back we’ll talk to Lance and kick everyone’s big stupid butts into gear because we need to figure this out and make sure that-”

 _Woah,_ woah. Eyes wide, Keith taps Pidge’s shoulder in an attempt to break the endless spiel. Suddenly aware of herself, aware of who she’s flung herself at in despair and desperately clung to, Pidge jolts back. Keith contemplates patting her head, but maybe that would be patronising even if his fingers are itching to do it out of a swell of fondness bubbling inside. Clearing his throat, a laugh lodged between coughs, Keith cocks his head in the direction of the peak.

“How about we just… focus on getting back to the castle first.”

A timid, bashful smile dusts over Pidge’s face. Nodding, she falls into step beside him.

“Sure,” Pause. They get a whole five steps before Pidge decides to turn the conversation elsewhere, swinging them back round into something more understated. Something simple they can follow. A give and take, mutual exchange.

“How does it feel, Keith?”

He can sense it, the precipice of some kind of Pidge Joke.

“What?” Shrugging, Keith bites down a shaky smile. He’s not quite sure he’s allowed to have that just yet. Only time will tell. It doesn’t stop the teasing words slipping from his lips. “ _You’re gonna have to be more specific.”_

Pidge is positively scandalised. This time when her elbow hits his side it is definitely intentional.

“I’m always specific. But if you need more details, I mean how does it feel to be _prehistoric?_ ”

For a moment, Keith scrambles to keep up. Then he realises, Pidge is bridging things together. This might even be something like an inside joke. That has his pulse thrumming with things too big and too powerful to contain. Throwing his hands up, Keith spins on his heel and walks backwards to face Pidge with an open coy smile.

“Still kicking, aren’t I?”

“For now.”

It’s ominous, and despite it being facetious Keith can’t _help_ be mildly sceptical. Pidge smiles cheerfully, teeth and all, which makes it worse. And just because he can, because it looks like teasing is something that’s been approved of as an acceptable kind interaction, Keith smiles back with the same magnitude of mischief. He’s still walking backwards, not showing off but not hiding how comfortable he is with the environment either. Smoothly, Keith recites the words that once stung.

“You know, you’re actually really… _not that bad_.”   

If he trips embarrassingly a few moments later on a branch that Pidge _pointedly_ refused to point out, then nobody besides them needs to know. If they race each other to the top of the peak and Pidge _cheats_ with her bayard and wins, nobody besides them needs to know. If  they sit at the top of the peak at sunset, catching their breath from the climb, and Pidge admits _maybe the outdoors isn’t so bad after all,_ then nobody besides them needs to know.

And if Pidge leans her head on his shoulder and succumbs to the exhaustion of the trek, with a name on her lips that isn’t his -  “Thanks for another fun trip, Matt...” - then nobody besides Keith needs to know. 


End file.
